The Submissive Side of Lust - Part 7

It’s an understatement. I weigh less than half of what you weigh. You’re straddling my chest with my arms crossed over my head and my legs are fastened to the bedposts.

For some reason for the first time I feel really exposed. It isn’t the fact I was wearing next to nothing when I started this game or the little show in the kitchen. It wasn’t bending over and shaking my bottom with my womanhood exposed or even having my legs tied to the bed like this and it isn’t being thrown over your shoulder when you carried me into the bedroom with your hand on my squeezing bottom.

It’s laying here with you straddling my chest. It’s having my arms up like this and how my chest and breasts are pulled taut. My breasts are small to begin with but being stretched out like this makes me look even smaller. For the first time I start to agree with my inner schoolgirl. I have a desire to hide behind her, an overwhelming need to cover up. My inner schoolgirl quietly wraps a quilt around me and is hugging me tightly.

“Are you okay?”

I make a halfhearted attempt to squirm underneath you but it accomplishes nothing.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as the energy seems to get sucked from the room.

Again, I try to pull my arms down. It’s with a sense of urgency and anger. I try rolling side to side to throw you off, struggling against your weight and your hands on my wrists, trying to thrash my legs but the shackles don’t surrender. Tears starting to fill in my eyes and overflow onto my cheeks.

Without hesitation you move off my chest and unfasten my legs. Like a rubber band pulled tight and then release I turn onto my side and coil up pulling the quilt and sheets up in front my breasts.

Lying down in front of me you slide up tight and put your arm under my head and over my side. Pressing my head against your chest and feeling the tenderness of your hand on my back.

“Are you okay, did I hurt you, I’m so sorry.”

The thoughts in my head are completely irrational. I know they are. It’s not anything you’ve done or said. There are no marks on me exposing a wound. There is just emotion.

“Please talk to me, what did I do?”

With tears in my eyes all I can do is press my head against your chest.

“…hold me” is all I can mutter as tears start to leave their wet trail down my cheeks.

I really don’t know why I’ve reacted like this. I don’t know if it’s about me, about the toys, the spanking or if it’s about us. Why today and why now?

“Please make love to me. I need you right now.”

“No, are you out of your fucking mind. I’m not touching you until I know what’s wrong. You have to talk to me.”

The thoughts in my head and the feelings in my heart are colliding.

More sternly and much louder you say “Michelle! What’s wrong?” You’ve rolled off the bed and are standing at the edge. Your hands are out in front of you with your palms up as if to ask a question.

I can’t respond. I’m frozen. It’s just pure and raw emotion inside me. Opening my mouth will only set off the stream of tears that I’m trying to fight back.

“DAMN IT MICHELLE, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG!”

The dam bursts. Yelling at me was the catalyst that caused my tears start flowing uncontrolled. Trails of moisture run down my cheeks. I need get out, I need to leave. I jump up from the bed clutching the quilt to my chest. I scan around the room looking for my clothes. My inner schoolgirl stands there mocking me with an “I told you so” look on her face. With my back to you I quickly pull my camisole top on and reach for my skirt.

“Where are my panties?” I half yell at no one and everyone at the same time. I can’t see clearly from the tears in my eyes.

I pull my skirt on and hastily zip it up and fasten it in the back. Slipping into my sandals I turn and head for the bedroom door.

“Michelle, where are you going? Don’t leave like this?” you say in a soft tone.

I move toward the door only to have you stand in front of me and bring your hands up to my arms. The touch of your fingers is like and explosion. My tears are falling uncontrolled. I shake my arms out of your grasp and push my way past you and head for the door, head for freedom. Grabbing my purse I pull open the front door and turn to look back at you.

Oh, why am I doing this. There is a hurt and confused look on your face, a stark contrast from the playful smile on your face a short while ago.

“Then stay here and talk to me. We can work this out together.”

“No. I can’t.” I sob. Stopping and looking at you across the room one last time I harden myself and say

“I love you.”

Time stops. Only silence fills the room and for the second time today there is no response. Turning I step out, gently pulling the door behind me and hearing the clicking of the latch as the doors closes.

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